One of my favorite Summer Olympic events, when I watched as a kid on my parents black and white TV, was platform diving. It had everything an adolescent boy could ever hope for in an Olympic event; skin tight bathing suits, (on the girls, wise acre) controversy, (on the part of the judges ) and the outside chance of seeing a belly flop from 33ft. The dive names and the hushed tones from the announcers added to the heightened drama. Which brings me to this afternoons charter, comprised of Roy, his two sons Joey and Alex and quiet Catherine, Joey’s girlfriend. We rounded the tip of the cape and headed to the bluefish grounds. Along the way, Roy told me that his son Alex was the fisherman in the family. He loved it actually. I kinda got the feeling that the entire charter was penciled in for his benefit. So of course we went through the first hour without him even getting a sniff of a fish. Everybody else had gotten at least one. We changed rods, seats, gear, everything, and he could not hook up. Another hour went by. Finally we decided to focus entirely on Alex, fishing mostly one rod so he could get a fish. And then the bluefish olympics started. Alex would hook up, but the fish would dig deep into its repertoire of “dives” to free itself. A Wally Gainer out 200 ft ~ gone! A somersault and reverse tuck ~ gone! A reverse twist in the pike position ~ free! The five of us started to act like judges, watching the fight unfold trying to figure out how this one would free itself. We lost rigs, we lost hooks, we even had one free itself by smashing against the boat. Finally, after 7 swings and misses, the fish Gods smiled on our weary angler and a gold medal was awarded to our best competitor, Alex!